


senseless fun

by orangesparks



Category: Are You Afraid of the Dark?
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:24:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangesparks/pseuds/orangesparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kristen isn't unusual. She just likes unusual things - and the Midnight Society falls easily into that category.</p>
            </blockquote>





	senseless fun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Kristen Gardner doesn't consider herself to be an unusual teenager.

She's sixteen, neither hates nor loves school, racks up her family's phone bill in ways that make her mother cringe and her father rage, and considers every weekend not spent shopping to be one sinfully wasted.

She is, however, unusual in comparison to other kids her age, if only in that: a) she actually adores inheriting hand-me-down clothes (her mother's Gunne Sax dresses from the '70s are _so_ choice), b) she doesn't react with mimed vomiting sounds when faced with a dish of hummus or tofu, and, c) she knows Wes Craven and all of those other modern horror guys? Have _nothing_ on the Brothers Grimm.

Betty Ann is probably the person she considers herself closest to - she's so _sensible_ , which is rare for anybody in high school. She's the one who extends the invitation for Kristen to join the Midnight Society, although it sounds more than a little silly at first. She could sit around telling ghost stories perfectly well in a place that _isn't_ the middle of the woods, thank you. But after the mention of initiation by unanimously impressing the group, Kristen's interest is sparked.

"I can't tell you," Betty Ann says simply when she demands to know who else is involved, but she's noticed, lately, her friend spending quite a bit of time with this unforgivably nerdy-looking guy named Jerry or Gary or something, and thus assumes he's probably involved.

After school, instead of grabbing a bag of pita chips and indulging in the usual (CBC's horribly cheesy After School Specials, delicious and oh-so-bad for you), she runs up to her room and sits, knees tucked underneath her, rain pelting a pretty rhythm against her bedroom window - taptap _tap_ taptap _tap_ (musical, kind of, _triplets_ , like the kind she played on her flute back in the sixth grade)--

\--and considers how best to utterly terrify and disgust a group of people she's never met.

 

-

 

She deliberates over her initiation story far more than she's stressed over any outfit for a dance (if she worries more than this over her Junior prom dress, her parents may very well discover her dead of a coronary).

She does have a game plan, however.

(One of her favorite dresses - velvet fabric in pale mint, bodice and arms choked by a pattern of hunter green vines, a great find from the early '50s at a thrift store - was the inspiring party.)

 

-

 

She likes to think she has the rest of them wrapped around her finger right at the part when the girl, trapped in the dark locked greenhouse for hours and starting to lose hope, starts to hear muffled screams coming from beneath the darkly-stained trapdoor.

(The girl - Sarah - was responsible for the whole ordeal herself. She'd snuck in just before close, planning to steal an exotic red plant she'd admired in the greenhouse window after the elderly shop owner refused to sell it to her. She'd realized how badly she miscalculated things when she first discovered that the plant was missing from its usual spot at the window, and then became locked inside the building after the shop owner left for the night.)

She doesn't keep them in suspense too much longer - they all need to go home before long - but it soon becomes clear that the shop owner hasn't really left for the night, and the reason the plant's disappeared from its window perch is because it's not really a plant; it's actually a rather unusual pet that needs to be fed certain things to be kept satisfied. People in the neighborhood have been mysteriously vanishing lately, and Sarah is beginning to have a pretty good idea of where they ended up.

'Cause, thing is - the greenhouse owner isn't exactly human, either.

Sarah eventually escapes, but her parents don't believe her hysterical story. They scold her for breaking and entering, for tormenting the poor old woman who owns the greenhouse; they say she's lucky to not have been picked up by the cops and in a whole lot of worse trouble. They ground her for months.

But they also, unknowingly, have exacted an even worse punishment - see, they called up the kindly old greenhouse owner when they heard about the trouble their daughter caused. And they've arranged for Sarah to come by tomorrow and help fix the property she destroyed. After school.

After close.

 

-

 

When they first take the blindfold off of her and she gets a good look at this random group of strangers - people who accept her not because of her looks, or how popular they think associating with her will make them; people who accept her just because they liked her story _that much_ \- she feels incredibly proud.

 

-

 

Sneaking out so late is one of her favorite things about the Midnight Society, right after having an excuse to see David on a weekly basis and the stories themselves. Because, really, it's forbidden. And therefore awesome.

She's caught only once, and is a convincing enough actor to pretend she's concerned about whether or not she remembered to bring her bicycle into the garage for the night (she silently thanks David's recent stolen bike misery for the lie fodder). It's enough to distract her mother into going back to sleep.

When she arrives, half an hour late, Kiki makes a snide comment about girls who would marry their eyeliner if they could and Kristen bites back a scathing retort about girls who _need_ it, letting them think her vanity's the case. It's somehow less humiliating than them knowing she was caught by her parents like some misbehaving child.

Tonight, Betty Ann's story is about a boy who's in for a grisly surprise when a prank against his lab partner goes rather wrong. Her stories are always elegant yet gory, something Kristen admires, and her face seems to glow when she gets to the grossest parts. Eric's, for his part, wrinkles into a grimace. Wimp.

Strangely enough, she would call every single person sitting in the circle her friend (even Kiki, although that girl could use a few lessons in manners and a Bobbi Brown makeover). And the next afternoon, when her father asks her if she's considered which colleges she'll apply to next year, the Midnight Society is the first concern that comes to mind.

 

-

 

The first time she mentions college to the others (Frank is the late offender this time, they have time to kill), Gary's jaw clenches and Betty Ann looks deep in thought.

"I mean," Kristen says, studiously avoiding their eyes and adjusting the sleeve of her sweater, "I don't think I'm going to school around here. What about you guys?"

Kiki mumbles something about a basketball scholarship, and Gary reels off every single Ivy League school he'll _obviously_ be accepted to. David mentions family in Ottawa. Eric disgustedly says that he hasn't even thought about it yet. Betty Ann stays quiet.

"What about you?" Gary asks her.

"I've been looking at schools in Montreal," Betty Ann says. "Mainly ones with good veterinary programs. But I think," she adds, after a moment, "that we're all wondering what's going to happen to the Midnight Society. When we leave."

"Other people will join!" Gary says impatiently. "Tucker's been whining at my parents about how I never let him hang around me, and y--"

"What about us, though?" Kiki says. Gary looks annoyed by the interruption, but doesn't respond, considering the question.

Betty Ann frowns, biting her lip. "We could write to each other. Mail each other stories, I mean. It's not much, but it could be a nice way to keep in touch. You know, take turns each week, or maybe change it to each month..."

"Well... I guess that could work," Gary says slowly. Kristen thinks he's probably just irritated he didn't think of it first.

"College isn't for another _year_. You guys need to shut up about it," Eric complains, but he looks just as worried as the rest of them.

When Frank shows up, they take turns mocking him for being late, college instantly forgotten. Gary shuts them all up in a prissy tone and commands David to begin his story, and although David's stories are usually her favorites, Kristen is still thinking about what's going to happen to all of this after graduation. She wonders why it's so worrying to her; she'll always visit Betty Ann and David, of course, and will probably run into the others again... but it just won't be the same.

She forces herself to stop thinking about it, focusing on the story, listening to David talk about lonely graveyards and supernatural romances and frozen flowers and regular kids who get caught up in all of it. Lets him remind her exactly why she looks forward to traipsing through the woods and sitting in the dirt every week.

It's not exactly something to put on her college applications. But hell if it isn't fun.


End file.
